Ordinary Love
by SoldierOfMyShadowyMind
Summary: The same, yet different. Little one-shot covering the missing scene in S3E08 where Mrs Hughes finds Thomas in the rain and they talk.


_We can't fall any further if we can't feel ordinary love and we cannot reach any higher if we can't deal with ordinary love. (U2 – Ordinary Love)_

_#_

"Mr Barrow!" Mrs Hughes said in surprise when she saw the former valet sitting on the wet ground in the pouring rain. "What in Heaven's name are you doing out here? I know you're leaving but things can't be as black as all that. You're trained now, you can apply for a position as a butler."

Thomas stood up, shakily, clutching at the wall to steady himself. "You don't know everything, then?" he assumed.

The housekeeper looked at him in confusion. "Then will you tell me everything?"

Thomas nervously wrung his hands. He didn't dare to look up. "I'm afraid if I do, Mrs Hughes… that it will shock and disgust you."

"Shock and disgust? My, my. I think I have to hear it now. Come on." Mrs Hughes laid an arm around his back and took him back inside and into her sitting room.

"You need to change your clothes" she suggested. "You're soaked wet. Wait." She left the room and when she came back she had a woollen blanket in her hands which she laid around Thomas's shoulders. "Sit down" she ordered. "I'll go and make some tea."

Thomas sat down on a chair as she left again. His legs were shaking and he was shuddering.

_Because of the cold or because of all that happened?_

Perhaps it was both. Little water droplets trickled down from his hair and onto his forehead. He must have been a terrible sight. Loose strands of black, wet hair tangled onto his forehead and before his eyes. He didn't even bother to push them away. Thomas shivered. He was freezing. Drawing the blanket closer around his shoulders he tried to get his thoughts straight. As it looked right now he would have to talk. Even if he didn't want to.

_And you have to bloody stop crying!_

But what was the point? He was total mess, inwardly and on the outside, what did it matter if he cried?

_God damn it, have you lost all your pride?_

Seemed like he had. If he was honest to himself, he didn't care anymore. Things couldn't get any worse.

_No. No, they certainly can't. Blackness can't be blacker than black._

Nearing steps dragged him out of his train of thoughts.

"Here, that'll make you feel better. I don't want you ill tomorrow." Mrs Hughes put down a cup of hot tea before him on the table.

Thomas's eyes were still cast down. "There are people in this house who would" he mumbled.

"What?" The housekeeper sat down in front of him at the other side of the small table. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because it's true! Everybody hates me…" For a short moment Thomas had looked up and Mrs Hughes could see the pain in his pale blue eyes. She felt sorry for him. He wasn't the nicest man she'd ever encountered but he certainly didn't deserve this.

"No one _hates_ you" she began.

"They do" Thomas frowned.

"Listen, Mr Barrow – Thomas. You can be…_difficult_ sometimes but I don't think that is a reason for hating you." She sighed and made a short pause before she continued. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I'm not so sure if you want to hear it. I probably should be-" Thomas scratched back the chair he was sitting on and made an unsure step towards the door when Mrs Hughes held him back.

"You will not leave now. Not before you haven't told me everything."

The jobless valet turned around and Mrs Hughes could read it all in his face. It was in plain sight. The mask was broken and all his feelings lay before her, shattered and lost. She wondered what could have happened that had such a destroying effect on a Thomas Barrow. He seemed devastated, crestfallen.

"Sit down" she said in a gentle tone.

Thomas did as he was told. But he remained quiet for a while, his hands laid around the cup as if seeking for a bit of warmth in this cold world, his eyes distant. Just as Mrs Hughes wanted to ask again he spoke.

"You know that among all the _normal_ men there are…some who…are _different._ Not in the sense of their origin or their accent but in the sense of…" he broke off. The housekeeper could see that it wasn't easy for him to talk about this. The more he spoke the clearer the idea got she had had on her mind right from the beginning of all this. She just wanted it confirmed. And so she sat there and watched him, waiting for him to say it.

"They're judged by it" Thomas continued, his voice trembling and low. "Unjustly. They get punished for being who they are just because…just because their heart lies where other men's don't." The last words were but a whisper and Mrs Hughes had almost missed them. She looked at him. He sat there, broken, lost, vulnerable. Never before she had seen him like this. A Thomas Barrow never let anyone too close, never laid down his mask, never let anyone harm him. But someone must have had an effect on him and she thought to know who this someone was.

Thomas cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea before he spoke again. "They are at the edge of society. As long as they stay hidden, as long as nobody knows it's okay. But when someone finds out about them they cannot hide anymore. Being exposed to the public is the worst that can happen to them. People think they're foul, not worth the life they've generously been given. People think they're a disgrace for society and have to be locked away. Just because they feel differently. Life for them is hard. They always have to watch out what they say, how they behave. Always cautious, always on guard that no one discovers their scandalous secret. They have to read the signs as best as they can but signs can be misread. Once they have found someone who feels like they do, they…" Suddenly he raised his head, his eyes tired and sad. He looked the housekeeper straight in the eyes. "We don't need much, Mrs Hughes. We don't want much. Just someone by our side, someone who _cares._ But even this tiny wish is us denied."

Mrs Hughes noticed the change in his voice. Now it wasn't _they_ anymore, it was _we_. "So you're one of them?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. Yes I am." Thomas looked down again, suddenly ashamed of his words.

"And am I right that James plays a part in this?"

"Yes."

Mrs Hughes sighed. It was exactly as she had thought. Which didn't mean that it would be any less complicated. "What happened?" she wanted to know.

"I…" Thomas swallowed, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "I did something I better haven't."

"And what was that?" Mrs Hughes questioned further.

"I, um…I…" Thomas fidgeted with his hands, nervous and not sure how to put into words what he had done. "I went into his room and…I…kissed him" he breathed.

Mrs Hughes let out a heavy sigh. "Great God, couldn't it have been something more easy to reconcile?"

"There! You're judging me!" Thomas accused her, hurt.

"No, I am not" Mrs Hughes defended herself. "I'm just saying that it's a real mess you got yourself into."

"That's not all" Thomas continued quietly. And then he told her the whole story, how he had sneaked into Jimmy's room and how Alfred had caught them - well, him. The horrors of the next day, how Jimmy had looked at him at the breakfast table, so hostile, so angry. He told her about Alfred telling Mr Carson and about his own conversations with the butler - if one could even call it a _conversation_. And at last he told her how much he regretted what he did. Who knew what could have happened if he had never stolen that kiss? It was all a concatenation of unfortunate events. Well, unfortunate was mildly put, _disastrous_ would be a more adequate word to describe the whole fiasco.

When he ended the room was quiet for a few minutes. Mrs Hughes seemed to digest the information but she didn't say anything. Thomas was the first to break the silence.

"So, that's my story. My dark secret. Now you know everything."

"Well, I wouldn't call it a _dark_ secret…" Mrs Hughes fell silent for a moment before she added, "You're not the first man…of this sort that has ever come across."

Thomas raised his head. "I'm not? Well, I'm…grateful that you understand me." He paused. "But then you'll also see that there's nothing that could be done. I have to leave. I just don't know where to go…and without a reference, I-"

"Don't talk like this!" the housekeeper interrupted him. "There's always something that can be done."

Thomas shook his head. "Not in my case" he mumbled, defeated. "There's nothing. I know that O'Brien's behind all this, she wanted to see me fall and now she can enjoy it. It was her who made me believe Jimmy felt the same way. It was her who urged Alfred to tell Mr Carson. And it is her who persuades Jimmy to act like this. He wouldn't do this, you know. He wouldn't be so unkind. But the worst thing is that he hates me now. He thinks I'm foul, he-" The last words were suppressed by a heavy sob. Thomas cast his eyes away. His chest quivered and he wiped away the tears that started to gather in his eyes again with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry" he murmured.

"It's alright" Mrs Hughes tried to comfort him. She reached out a hand and gently placed it on Thomas's. "Believe it or not, but I understand you. And I want to help you."

Thomas sniffed. "So you're not…shocked and disgusted?"

Mrs Hughes shook her head. "No. I honestly feel sorry for you, Mr Barrow. Although I am quite surprised that I am actually saying this." She took a deep breath. "So you're saying Miss O'Brien is the guilty party?"

"Well, it's me who did it but…she incited me to do it. I should never have listened to a word she said. I should have known better."

"Well, we can't turn back the clock now that it's happened. But we can try to soothe it down. First we have to convince James that you're genuinely sorry and that Miss O'Brien plays a significant part in this."

"It isn't as easy as that" Thomas answered back. "He wouldn't listen to me."

"Well, than Mr Carson or I have to talk to him."

"Why do you think Mr Carson would help me?"

A small smile crept onto Mrs Hughes's lips. "Because he isn't as bad as you think. In his heart he is a good man and I'm sure he doesn't like the thought of casting you away without a reference."

Thomas snorted. "I wouldn't be that sure."

"You don't know him."

"I know him good enough to know that he doesn't like me."

"Well, let's leave it at that." Mrs Hughes fell silent for a moment, thinking about the possibilities they had. It weren't much. "You know that you have to make sacrifices?"

Thomas nodded. "'Course I know. I didn't expect anything else. It was my fault. I know that I have to go."

Mrs Hughes watched him. "As sorry as I am but as it seems now the only thing we can achieve is that you get your reference" she said.

Another nod. "I know."

"Well, maybe it is for the best. You can make a new start somewhere else and there won't be any further trouble if you and James don't see each other again." She could see him swallow and she almost thought to see tears in his eyes again.

"Do you know how it is to love someone but to know you will never be the one they'll choose? How it is to know that you'll never see them again?"

"You might not believe me but I know how that feels like" Mrs Hughes responded. "And I know that it hurts. But there is no other way. You have to face it, Thomas."

"I know" he sobbed quietly. He was ashamed of his behaviour, ashamed of crying right before her, ashamed of his feelings but he couldn't help it. He wasn't able to control the tears and so he just let them flow. They trickled down his face leaving wet marks on his cheeks. His chest hurt and his throat was dry. He coughed and mumbled hastily, "I have taken enough of your time. I should be going." With that he stood up.

"Thomas." He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Don't give up. We'll find a way. Together. But now you need to rest. I'll see what I can do." Her voice was gentle and caring and Thomas felt genuinely grateful for it.

"Let's see how it develops. I'm sure tomorrow everything will look different if we see it in another light" Mrs Hughes concluded.

"Different, yes. But not necessarily better" Thomas replied.

"We'll see."

Thomas nodded and went to the door. His fingers grabbed the metallic knob and he was just about to turn it when he suddenly stopped and turned back round.

"Do you know what I wonder about?" he asked her, his voice soft and almost philosophical.

"No, but I believe you will tell me."

"I wonder what happened if Alfred hadn't been there. I'm not saying that-…but maybe…"

"Whatever. It's happened now and we can only speculate. Don't get me wrong Mr Barrow, I understand that you would want to believe that it would have been all different if young Alfred hadn't walked in but he has and now we have to deal with the situation at hand."

"Of course, Mrs Hughes." He opened the door and made a step into the corridor but turned back once more.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes." His voice was quiet and his eyes told her that he really meant it.

"Goodnight, Mr Barrow" she only said.

He nodded. "Goodnight." And with that the door clicked shut behind him and he was gone.

Mrs Hughes sat at the table, staring at the place he'd stood seconds ago.

_How opinions can change…_

She felt sorry for him. Somehow she did. She never thought she would ever say this but if one looked underneath, Thomas wasn't as bad a man as one would think. He was just like everybody else.

_The same, yet different._

Mrs Hughes sighed.

_Poor lad. He did nothing wrong and still they would rather see him going to prison…_

_What will become of our society if we can't even deal with ordinary love?_


End file.
